a wish for always
by sugar free vanilla
Summary: 'Darkness seeps into your vision and a mist of panic condenses over your still-beating heart. "Rick," Your voice is impossibly small, rasping, the little oxygen remaining in your body forced out. "I love you. I love you, Rick."' Knockout AU. An exploration in the second person - repost.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, so this is a tweaked repost of a fic I wrote back in… May? That I deleted for multiple reasons. Second part will be up tomorrow when I'm done fixing that so it works with the changes I made in the first! :)**

**This was based off a prompt from the castlefanficprompts tumblr by takeiteasykate. The prompt was as follows: 'What if, when Kate was shot, it was her who told Rick she loved him, not him telling her?'**

**Thank you to sanumarox123 for being a princess and going over this for me.**

For a split second, you don't know what's happened. You're pushed backwards by something colliding with you, the momentum causing it to rip apart your chest. You realise it's a bullet when you hear the screams - they're distant to you, you can't think who they belong to at this moment because right now there are exactly two thoughts in your brain. A steady stream of _shit shit shit _crawls around your mind, crowding into the meagre spaces that aren't screaming _Castle!_ and he's _almost_ all you can think about as every trace of air exits your body.

You're already falling as his body slams into you and for a fleeting second you're _furious_ because that man tried to put himself in the path of a _bullet_ for you even as his teenaged daughter looked on.

It doesn't hurt, you realise, horizontal on the ground, but you can't _breathe_ and you almost wish for the agony to return and then you realise that you're dying and your chest tightens even more. You told him once that you thought you'd die this way, take a bullet, but you didn't think it'd be today - you thought you'd go down in a blaze of glory, not lying on the grass in your uniform blues at your mentor's funeral.

Your vision is hazy but it focuses eventually and it's _him_, hovering above you with such fear on his face that you want to cry. There's a bright blue halo around his head - the sky you realise - the exact colour his eyes should be. But they are darkened with grief as his gaze sweeps your features frantically and it's as if he is trying to memorise you, like this is the last time he'll see you and you want to tell him to _stop_ because the thought of never seeing Richard Castle again is too much to bear, even if you won't be alive to live through the misery. The words won't come, though, get lost between your brain and your tongue in a tangle of twisted emotions.

Suddenly, the fear hits you with the force of a tsunami, sending a tremor through the body you can no longer control and you realise he's speaking. Through the fog of your brain you register his words, tainted with desperation as he pleads with you as if you're in control, as if you'd _ever_ leave him of your own accord.

_Stay with me Kate, don't leave me, stay with me, okay?_

It takes everything you have to manage the tiniest of nods; it's a Herculean effort for you yet you aren't sure the movement was even perceptible. But he has to know you'll fight to live, for him. You won't leave that _stupid, beautiful _man who tried to push you out of the path of a speeding bullet. If you get through this, you promise yourself, you'll never let yourself be without him.

Darkness seeps into your vision and a mist of panic condenses over your still-beating heart.

"Rick," Your voice is impossibly small, rasping, the little oxygen remaining in your body forced out. "I love you. I love you, Rick."

Finally, you've found your words.

A sort of contented calm settles over you then; your tensed limbs grow heavy and sag as black spots impede your vision. And it's absent observance, rather than active thought, that tells you how very wonderful it feels to be ensconced in Richard Castle's arms, even as you finally sink into the pleasant waves of nothing that lap at your consciousness.

You go limp, as he holds you, and you hear a wretched sob; you want to tell him not to be sad - you aren't hurting, you'll see him soon but you are already gone.

* * *

><p>You're hurting and <em>oh God, <em>it's bad, drifting in and out of consciousness in ebbing tides that span the narrow gap between excruciating pain and absolute agony.

Now, you're fully awake and fully confused and everything fully _burns_ and you can't move, can't even open your eyes. Light sears through your closed lids, far too bright.

You hear a man's voice whisper your name and for a moment the pain dulls slightly, your heart thrumming to the chorus of _Rick! _that courses insistently through your veins.

And then the agony floods back. Because it isn't Castle speaking - it's Josh. Your _boyfriend_. And somehow, the thought alone leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

"Kate?" He repeats. "Can you hear me?"

You don't even try to respond, heavy disappointment laying over you like a cold blanket of snow, ice against your burning heart. You don't know what's going on, but you do know it's not _him _you want. Never has been. At this second though, the torment of the unrelenting fire that scorches you to the soul leaves no room for your denial. So you ignore him, don't even bother to pretend you love him.

An audible sigh, and then a prick against your arm. You sink into numbness, relief clouding your mind as you slip away.

* * *

><p>The next time you wake up, the pain is just as bad, but your mind is clearer. Slowly, it all comes back to you. The shooting. Castle pushing you down. Him begging you to stay.<p>

Your eyes shoot open when you remembers what you told him.

_Rick, I love you. I love you, Rick._

The first thing you sees once your eyes adjust to the severe hospital lighting is your doctor boyfriend, wearing scrubs and a relieved smile as he sees you awaken.

He briefs you on what happened, mistaking the wild look of panic in your gaze for confusion. You carefully retain his words about what happened once you blacked out, squeezing your eyes closed as he hesitantly mentions the inevitable scarring.

Your hands creep under the harsh cotton of your hospital gown, exhaling softly as your fingertips trail over the gauze wrapped around your side, hiding the long, surgical scar Josh has just told you about, whisper up your ribs until you can lay your palm over the bandage over your chest. No, exit wounds, he tells you. The bullet had been embedded in your chest, but his colleague had gotten it out with minimal damage. He says you'll likely make a full recovery and things will be just like they were before.

You feel sick at the thought; your closest brush with death yet and you're sure you must be on your last life now. And if that's true, you are going to make this one a life worth living.

The first change that must be made is glaringly obvious as you stare at Josh, his hands twining in your knotted hair. You want to bat him away, wish you had the strength. You open your mouth to speak and-

"Kate. I want you to know… I love you. I thought you were going to die - I can't _not_ say it anymore."

Well, _shit._

You say nothing for a moment. Maybe if he stops talking and you close your eyes you can pretend the words that should have you walking on air came from another man. But he continues.

"I know it's bad timing, you've been through a lot recently - your captain dying, now this - so I don't expect you to say it back just yet."

_Just yet?_ You can barely stop the disgusted curl of your lip that threatens to show itself. He shouldn't _expect_ you to say it at all.

Except, well. He _is_ your boyfriend of almost a year.

Still.

He's smiling at you, tender and handsome with those puppy dog eyes, hopeful that you'll reciprocate his feelings despite his words. You feel nauseous and your answering smile is forced, queasy.

You want to ask about Castle, but lately Josh has been… touchy about that subject. So you fish for information subtly.

"Lots of flowers," You comment, wincing as you lift one arm, gesturing around the room. "Have people been visiting?"

"Oh, yeah." Josh looks deflated as you change the subject and you feel feel bad for him, for skating over his admission of feelings without comment but you can't _deal _with that right now, just can't.. "Your Dad... Lanie, Esposito and Ryan. Most of the flowers were sent over by people from the Precinct. More wanted to visit, I think, but I spoke with your doctor and convinced him it was best if we limited the people who can visit you, just for now."

A spark of annoyance flashes through you. He's right, in honesty - you'd rather not be visited by every man and their mother - but it isn't _his _decision to make. And even if your irritation is a little irrational, you've sure as hell been through enough to justify it.

He's still speaking. You reluctantly turn your thoughts from your ire to what he's saying and _Jesus Christ,_ you wish you hadn't.

"That writer, I don't think he's left the hospital." A warm glow ignites, tingling as it diffuses into every crevice of your body. "Don't worry, though, Kate. Told him to stay away. You don't need him around while you recover-"

"You _what?" _Your voice is hoarse, so quiet he doesn't hear you.

"- Not when it's his fault you're here in the first place-"

"_You_ _what?" _ Louder this time. Angrier.

"Kate? He got you _hurt, _he was the one who put you in danger, opened up your Mom's case_..._ I thought - I thought it would be want you want?"

"I _want _him!" The words fly from your mouth without permission, taut with anger and desperation and _need_ and then you realise what you said and how it sounds, how your boyfriend is looking at you and you have to try to fix it even if how it comes across is _exactly_ what you meant. "Here. I want him here. He's my friend."

One look at Josh's face tells you he's not buying it. You find you don't care.

"Your _friend?" _It's a snarl, bitter and twisted and ferocious. "It's _his_ fault you're in a hospital bed. It's _his _fault Montgomery is dead. It's _his _fault, it's all his fault and maybe if you stopped and looked, you'd see him for the guilty, pathetic-"

"Out. Get _out." _You hate that your voice breaks, want to be strong, commanding. So you try again. "Get out. Don't come back."

"_Kate - _I love you and-" The malice on his face as he slandered Castle disintegrates, morphing into an aghast desperation, eyes bleeding emotion as they plead with you not to be so rash.

"-and I don't care." You complete his sentence for him. "I don't care. So get out." And maybe it's harsh, your dismissal of him - but you aren't rational now; you're hurting and you're in a hospital bed and you're so damn _angry _at him for talking about Castle in that way.

You sink back against the pillows and instead of mourning the end of your relationship, you sigh in relief; you can finally breathe again and you wonder how you ever stayed with Josh for so long when the whole pretence of it was draining you dry.

_You hide in these nowhere relationships with men you don't love._

His words echo back to you and hot needles stab at your eyelids, tears threatening to spill from under them because he was right about that, about _everything._ And because you love him.

Fear strikes you like a knife then because for the first time since your mother died, you have nowhere to hide. At least, not from _him. _Not from Richard Castle.

Refusal to cry causes your throat to burn. Choking loneliness creeps over you and you cross your arms around your torso, holding yourself together so that you don't fall apart.

You fall asleep. In your dreams, it's his arms that hold you.

* * *

><p><strong>tumblr: castleholic<strong>

**twitter: _sfv**


	2. Chapter 2

**HEY, here's the rest. Thanks again to Bogi (sanumarox123) for her beta-ing :) Would you look at me being all prolific?! **

* * *

><p>He still hasn't visited.<p>

Why hasn't he visited?

Hot panic bubbles in your throat as possible explanations flit through your mind.

_He looked into your shooting - got in too deep - he's dead, they killed him, oh my god, he's dead and - _

You pinch the bridge of your nose, steady your breaths. He isn't dead. Nobody would _dare_ keep that from you, even now.

_He's giving you space - knows you're healing. Maybe he thinks it's for the best?_

That'd be like Castle. Never backing off when you want him gone (not that you've _ever_ truly wanted him gone), withdrawing when you feel like you're ready to let him in.

_He doesn't love you. _Says the traitorous whisper in your heart. _He's avoiding you. Doesn't want to upset while you're here. He'll wait until you're healed, and then he'll shatter your heart._

* * *

><p>It's days later that you broach the topic with your father.<p>

"Dad… Has Castle been… y'know. Around? At all? Lately." You ask, trying to keep the edge of desperation from your tone. You fail utterly in your attempt at casual.

He laughs. "He's been home twice tops, since you were brought in, Katie, tried setting up camp in the corridor but the nurses were having none of it. I think he checked into a hotel across the way so he could be as close as possible should anything happen. His daughter's worried sick about him."

_Alexis. _Your heart sinks. God, she's gonna _hate_ you. Castle almost took a bullet for you. Almost _died._ But you're confused. He's here. So why hasn't he visited?

"I haven't seen him?" Your voice wavers and you can't read the look your father gives you.

"Well, what did you expect Katie? Josh said when you first came in that you didn't want to see him?" He pauses, hedging for a second. "Look. I know you're healing - and I fully support _whatever_ it is you need to get better - but the man is going insane. I really think you should let him in."

You're still reeling in shock, muddled brain struggling to match the pieces together.

"I never said that to Josh. I - we broke up Dad. The first day I woke up. I broke up with him _because_ he wouldn't let Castle see me, said awful things - and now… _Oh God, Daddy, _I thought he didn't want to see me." And suddenly you're a little girl in your father's arms, crying half at the thoughts of rejection that had haunted you for a week, and half in relief. "I love him." it's a whispered confession. A thrill shivers through you as the words escape into the open. It feels delicious to finally let them out without the near-certainty of death looming over you. You feel your father smile against your hair before disentangling himself from your embrace.

"I'll be right back, Katie-Bug."

* * *

><p>You're drifting into slumber when your door opens again, half an hour later; you hate that, the constant need for rest. Between the painkillers you're still on and your body's natural healing processes, you're sleeping for more than half the day.<p>

"Hey, Dad." You murmur groggily, shifting further into your pillows.

"_Kate." _Castle speaks your name like a lover's caress. You bolt upright and then you're gasping in pain because _damn it _you just got shot a week ago… and then he's laying you back down, his palm running along your forearm as he soothes you. He looks _exhausted_, red eyes framed by purple bags, hair unkempt but he's never looked more beautiful to you than he does now, gazing at you tenderly as he kneels at your bedside. "I never thought I'd see you again - and then I was told you didn't want to see me-"

"No. _No, _Rick. I always want to see you. You have to believe me. Always." Clutching at his hand as you speak, your earnest plea dissolves into a yawn and he's chuckling and playing with your hair, just like Josh had, but you don't want to push him away. You want to pull him in closer and never let him go because when he's touching you like that, so innocent and loving, you forget all your pain and bask in the glow he's cast in your life since you first picked up one of his novels. The light that burns ever brighter. He says you're extraordinary, and you have no idea how he can have such high opinions of you when he is the single most remarkable thing on this planet. You want to tell him that, but you're so tired and his gentle touch is lulling you into sleep and your words come out in an unintelligible mush.

"Sleep, Kate. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?" The word is slurred, a sleepy drawl giving the question a childlike innocence.

"Always." He swears, brushing a kiss to your temple. You're smiling as you slip from the waking world into dreams of you and him_._

* * *

><p>When you wake up, he's not there and for the briefest of moments dismay pools in your stomach, bile rising in your throat. But seconds later, he's through the door, clutching two cardboard coffee cups.<p>

He's panting and as soon as he places the two drinks on the table by your bedside he clutches at his sides.

"So - sorry. Wanted to surprise you. Coffee. Was - trying to get back - before you woke up." His words are punctuated with wheezing inhales.

You laugh.

"God, Castle. Where was that Starbucks, Canada?"

He huffs indignantly.

"You are on the sixth story of this hospital, you know that? I ran the stairs _and _beat the elevator."

You smile indulgently. He's damn adorable.

"Hey." You whisper. You aren't entirely sure why.

"Hey, yourself." You want to see that look in his eye everyday.

You hold each other's gazes for a long moment, until you _giggle. _And it's so carefree, and so unexpected that you do it again.

And then he's laughing too and neither of you know why and you want to laugh with him over nothing for the rest of your life.

You both fall silent, eventually. The look on his face shifts, from mirthful to thoughtful to serious.

"Kate?" It's hesitant, the way he says your name this time. You're scared as to where this is going. "I just need you to know - if what you said when you were dying was… a spur of the moment thing? That's okay. Being in your life, in any capacity; that's enough for me. I won't hold you to it." He says it offhandedly, but his eyes speak of sacrifice and an ocean of love all for _you._

You take his hand.

"You better hold me to it. Because I love you Castle. I love you." You reach up, stroke the rough stubble on his cheek. "And I plan on loving you for a long time yet."

And _God, _that look in his eye as you say the words, say it without the impending threat of death, has you crying because he looks like all his Christmases have come at once, like a little boy seeing snow for the first time. So happy. And it's because you love him.

And then you realise he's crying too, words getting stuck in his throat, "You love me. You love me." He's repeating it like a mantra, like he could never get sick of the sentiment. "I love you too. So much. _Kate…_!" So much wonder, in his voice. Like this is some bizarre, beautiful fantasy, and not real life.

"I do." Your fingers are ghosting over the strong line of his jaw, trailing over his chin. You smudge his bottom lip with your thumb and then he's kissing you and stars seem to burst in your veins, sizzling through your body in bursts of joy, delight bubbling through you like champagne, golden and delicious. One of your hands curls around the back of his neck, the other twined in his hair. His cup your cheeks like you are some fragile, precious thing.

All too soon, he's pulling away and you're tugging him back to you, whining as he withdraws.

"If we'd carried that on, I'd have ended up doing things to you that would likely hinder your healing." He chuckles in explanation.

"Do them," you instruct petulantly, one hand fisting in his shirt.

He gently pries your fingers away, steps back, out of your reach. You frown. He is _far_ too far away. You shift over on the bed, pat the space you clear next to yourself. You toss your irises skyward as he eyes you warily. "Don't worry, Castle. I just wanna snuggle." Your arched brow is a challenge, a familiar mocking tease that makes you feel more like yourself.

That's enough for him, and then he's next to you, sitting over the covers. You're tucked into his side and he is the _best _body pillow imaginable. You sigh contentedly, wiggling further into him, burying your face against his neck.

"Don't fall asleep like this Beckett," he warns you. "It may be comfortable now but it won't be. You'll regret it when you wake." You nod insouciantly as he coasts his hand through your tangled mane, almost too tenderly for your heart to bear.

* * *

><p>He's right. Your neck aches like a bitch when consciousness hits you.<p>

But he's also wrong; you don't regret it for a second.

You rejoice in the feeling of his arms around you as he sleeps - safe and warm and _home._

* * *

><p>You're still luxuriating in the sensation when you hear the door open. You open your eyes a crack to see who it is. It's one of the nurses: Rosa, you recall. You think she's going to kick Castle out and you clutch him tighter. A moment later though, and a soft weight sinks comfortingly over your body, and his. She's drawn a blanket over the pair of you, you realise. You smile to yourself as you sink deep into his arms and into slumber.<p>

* * *

><p>You leave hospital today.<p>

You'd been talking with your father before you saw Rick, about spending the summer at his cabin. This time, when he brings it up, you shyly duck your head, bite your lip.

"Sorry, Dad. Rick's invited me to the Hamptons and… I want to go."

Your dad doesn't look sorry. "I know, actually; he's already extended an open invitation to stay whenever to me. I'm happy for you, Katie."

"Yeah." You murmur, softly. "Me too."

* * *

><p>The Hampton's house can hardly be called that. It's <em>incredible.<em> The building is beautiful, of course - the rooms tastefully decorated. It feels like a lived in home too, surprising you; the Castles only spend a few weeks out here a year.

The best part, though, is undoubtedly the private beach.

It's just the two of you out here, now, on your last day before returning to the city, three months after you left the hospital, staring at the sky. Stars blink into view, one by one.

You're on a tatty, knitted blanket, worn from age. It looks home made, and you ask him about it. Apparently, he learnt to knit, made this blanket for Alexis when she was six. She'd just gotten a new pink bedspread when he finished it, he recalls, so the orange wool clashed; destined to become a seldom used picnic blanket out here in the Hamptons.

"I didn't know you could knit, Castle." You lean into his shoulder, nudging him playfully.

'So many layers to the Castle onion. However will you peel them all?" You give him a light dig in the ribs for that.

"I can't believe you remember me saying that." You shake your head, unable to contain the smile that pulls at your lips. "But… Castle." You shift your weight and kneel next to him as he sits. You trail kisses down his jaw and delight in the shiver that shudders through him at your touch. "I have been cleared for _active duty_." You scrape your teeth against his ear and he groans, ever so quietly. "Starting from today." Both of your hands shift underneath his shirt, resting flat against the plane of his stomach. "So I'm going to get a head start," you nip at his full bottom lip. "-in peeling layers off of the _Castle onion."_

And then his shirt is on the floor and his lips are on your neck and you're making love under the stars.

* * *

><p>You lie there in a post-coital haze, trying to count the stars to no success. You study the night sky intently, the deepest midnight blue against the silver-gold of the stars. A flash catches your eye - a bright yellow streak against the darkness.<p>

You squeeze Rick's wrist, awakening him from the light doze he's fallen into. "Castle. A shooting star."

He cracks out that adorable little-boy grin of his. "Make a wish, Kate."

So you screw your eyes shut as he does the same next to you, and you _wish._

* * *

><p>Later that night, as you lay naked in bed, you ask him what he wished for. He refuses to tell - says it won't come true if he does.<p>

"It doesn't count if you whisper." You breathe against his neck, sleep gentling you, softening your hard edges.

So he tugs you to him, lowers his lips to your ear and relinquishes his secret to you.

And you smile, turn to him and exhale love against his lips, because you both wished for the same on that shooting star - a wish for always.

* * *

><p><strong>AND THE PRIZE FOR CHEESIEST LAST LINE GOES TO...<strong>

**tumblr: castleholic**

**twitter: _sfv**


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